Arnold and the NotSoMagic Magic School Bus
by Dr. Tran
Summary: Hopefully I can edit this later... Uhm, a parody my friend and I thought up... You'll see. There might be underlined words because this story was originally written for a homework assignment using vocabulary words I picked out from summer reading books,


The Not-So-Magic Magic School Bus

Arnold Perlstein woke up to the final movements of Beethoven's Symphony No. 9 on AM radio station 90.9. He grinned at the beauty of the piece, that is, until reality finally sank into him and left him with a ghastly expression on his face. Today was the first day of school.

"Please let this be normal fieldtrip," he found himself already muttering.

The daily fieldtrips he spent in elementary with his class of eight kids was the phase in his life he wished could simply be erased. Summer vacation had been his first break from the fiasco, and he couldn't have loved it more. It was already 7:36am, only twenty-four minutes left before he was tardy—but why would he care? No matter how "early" he arrived to school, he was still late in the eyes of Ms. Frizzle's class, most of who appear to practically live there. (During Arnold's first year in Ms. Frizzle's class, he arrived to school an hour early one day for tutoring only to find his entire class there wide-awake, playing board games and such and reminiscing the previous day's fieldtrip and what could possibly be in store the following day.)

Arnold begged his mother to drive back home because he "forgot his lunch" or he "forgot to bring paper," all to tarry from entering that dreaded penitentiary people call school.

"I already checked last night and this morning for all of your supplies, so you march in that school, young man," was all Mrs. Perlstein said before inching out of the parking lot.

"—But Mom! Look, they're not in my backpack!" Arnold lifted his unzipped backpack, and true to his word, it was clearly empty.

"Now Arnold, we both know that your father and I are paupers when it comes to making you lunch. We barely make enough money to pay for all the bills, so don't you dare throw away our hard-earned time and money. Now go to class before you're late. I'll make spaghetti tonight if you do—it's your favorite!" and with that, she was gone.

"Okay," assented Arnold, having lost in this exact argument one year ago but what seemed like only yesterday.

"YA-YA-YA-HOOO!"

_Oh, God_, Arnold thought to himself.

The overflowing ebullience of Ms. Frizzle's class was already radiating through the classroom walls. The bell had rung ten minutes ago, but at school with only one teacher, seven other students, and a tormented lizard, no one was around to spot Arnold's covert attempt to hide outside the classroom for as long as possible.

Arnold glanced at his wristwatch. It was 9am, and the amount of discursive conversations between eight people seemed inconceivable. Arnold ignored most of the talk until the mention of his name caught his attention.

"Is it just me, or is Arnold absent today?"

"At my old school, no one was named Arnold."

"What're we gonna do? What're we gonna do? What're we gonna do?"

For once, Arnold felt that maybe Ms. Frizzle's class did appreciate him, despite having taken an hour to notice he was not there. But the feeling was short, for none other than Carlos Ramon spoiled the moment with one of his infamous wisecracks. As expected, the class responded together with an exasperated "Carlos." Arnold sat shaking his head in disapprobation, finding it utmost immoral to joke about a person dying if one was to be absent.

It seemed like only a minute that Arnold had fallen asleep when all of a sudden the door burst open and flung him five feet forward, face in dirt.

"So let's get the facts, Arnold's been hiding out here all by himself all this time?" Keesha inquired.

_Clickety-click, clickety-click! _Ms. Frizzle stormed out of the classroom in a Spanish flared dress, still clicking the castanets in her hands.

"Oh, Arnold, what a nice surprise. We were only going to go on the most exciting fieldtrip ever conceived when I realized we couldn't go because you were missing. Now that we've found you, though, I think we're going to have to make it an even _more _intense fieldtrip!" Ms. Frizzle was beaming toward the rest of her class.

"Please let this be a normal fieldtrip," Arnold whimpered.

"—With the Friz'! NO WAY!"

With that, they grabbed Arnold by the arm and dragged him onto the bus.

"How about a trip to—_the center of the Earth?_" the lineaments under Ms. Frizzle's eyes clearly showed she had lost her mind this time, but the class ate her idea like a cake.

For the next six hours, the kids played around in the old, beat-up, yellow bus parked in the parking lot, taking off in far-off "adventures" while a depressed, pallid boy's face looked out the back window miserably. If there was ever a moment of silence on that bus, a long, dejected ululation could be heard from none other than Arnold Perlstein.


End file.
